


My bounty is as boundless as the sea

by wolfcap (darksidesofmind)



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, the one where I HAVE to fix the mess of 8.09, the one where Liz is not MIA, the one where Liz more or less drunk blurts out her alias to Ressler, the one where Ressler is more Darcy than Darcy himself less socially awkward, the one where she innocently can fix his tie, the one where we see Liz's POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksidesofmind/pseuds/wolfcap
Summary: "Juliet buries her love in the sand, choosing to fight a war leaving Romeo confused on his turmoil to find honorable justice in a world filled with grey pawns, black pieces in a chess game of kings, and queens with all the white pieces on the side. "This takes place after she disappeared on us in episode 8.04.New chapter: 8.09
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Donald Ressler, Elizabeth Keen/Donald Ressler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. Elizabeth : Parting is such sweet sorrow

_My bounty is as boundless as the sea,_

_My love as deep; the more I give to thee,_

_The more I have, for both are infinite._

Almost a month away from her usual routine. One month away from being an FBI agent, being a fugitive, a criminal, preparing for a war of the roses. For all intents and purposes wasn’t she to do what she was programmed to?

Wasn’t she doing just that? 

The snow outside her chalet in Switzerland was filled up to her knees, Agnes as always enjoying it, unaware in her youth of all the wolves that were lurking in the dark woods. Between securing assets, securing her daughter’s safety somewhere in the globe, and establishing the FBI nor Reddington himself will able to track her down she was wondering if her actions were excused by her grief and anger. 

“ You know how this ends…..” 

_These violent delights have violent ends._

The voice of logic was left behind, tacked away in a night only.

* * *

_“ Do you want something to drink?”_

She couldn’t remember if she consciously acted on behalf of her heart’s sincerity or her burning desires. Before he could offer her a glass of liquor, her lips were violently attempting to seek his approval and comfort. Before she could hear the small voice on the back of her head, he was reciprocating with broad affirmation that she wasn’t rejected.

Liz never imagined or rather she did but she always silenced that part of her mind every time she would realize she was studying his eyes more than a partner should have, she would linger only enough to satisfy that part of her heart that was yearning for more. 

But here she was, brave enough to silence his practicality, his firm ideation of honor. 

Like a night or two ago she was asking again for his approval but she was asking for a void approval in her vain demands or she thought so. 

_“I need time”_

Did she mean to kiss him? Betray him? Or both? 

Did she glanced over his holster first or she glanced at his blue eyes first ? Would she have reached for it to remind him of their “doomed” reality or would have kissed him nonetheless? 

_These violent delights have violent ends._

Was it disappointment in her face when she returned to the warehouse, repeating his words in the back of her head, maybe Liz was expecting that people around her would at least give her something in return for all the misfortune she has been enduring? 

Didn’t she deserve that?

Again her disappointment wasn’t because Red couldn’t give her the one thing she seemed to want the most. It wasn’t because her mother wasn’t who she expected but it was her mother, didn’t she expected her own daughter to “forgive” her for every wrong she has done one day? 

Was she naive to believe and to trust blindly? 

From all the people in her life, from the father, she never met, the mother who showed up one-day bringing chaos along with her, the imposter who loved her as his daughter _she never asked for approval._

She never asked approval from the man who was caught in the web of lies and paid the price with his own life upon chasing for her truth. But she seemed to want desperately and most eagerly _his approval, his trust._

If she would fail on his eyes then would anything else matter even if she would return in a triumph? 

Did anything else matter if he was dead and gone as well, from her hand? Was he meant to be caught between the crossfire? Would she endure another great loss? 

This is when Liz realized nothing else mattered. If anyone would have to be caught and pay for the price that would be her.

It was her truth, her truth alone.

She allowed herself one night, alone for herself to cut ties but fulfill her heart's desire so she can move with her plan. 

She wished the night would end up timeless, enough to savor every kiss, every embrace. Liz wished she could voice her inner thoughts and feelings to him even for one moment while they were both halves in the shadows but full of fire, didn’t she felt that way, or was her heart deceiving her? 

The darkroom filled with the fever of two souls connecting was void of any noise. 

Only silence. 

Her kisses, every time their eyes met in the flames seeking more than she could offer could have been enough to fill a book for words her mouth could never speak.

Liz wasn’t a schoolgirl, didn’t expect two grown-ups to play Romeo and Juliet. Who in their right mind would want a tragedy after one was fading to eternity. 

And yet here she was, scared of the imminent goodbye that would come. 

“Thank you for letting me stay…”

Before she proclaimed the defeat she saw on his eyes after her statement, she refused herself one more lingering look, one more kiss to capture the moment as memory and protect it as a treasure. 

She turned her head, gathered her things, and head for the door, maybe her pace was faster than she intended. 

But never looked back.

Stripped herself from any emotional attachment. But her heart was betraying her, did she call him to have her soundboard one last time or felt guilty enough to imply she was apologizing for her tactics? To plead with him one more time and gain something? 

One of these days he would look at her like a common criminal as the ones he would cuff and lock away. 

_Deja vu_

She played that game before, enough to have him chase her desperately. Enough for his anger to recite the fear that he wanted her dead and gone. But she wouldn’t stick around to see the look on his face, his disappointment, certainly wouldn’t stick around and make a childish mistake out of anger that would be enough to end his life.

_She was swapped by the sea._

Stripped from a shelter or any sense of security and with her anchor left behind.

Here she was, playing, piece by piece a game with her mentor, her puppeteer. 

* * *

Starring at the flames on the fireplace, waiting for them to embrace her. 

Night upon a night, sweating filled with anxiety. Picking place after place in the map, were they coming after her? How many hours had she left? 

How many burner phones she had already in her possession? Wasn’t one enough to finally sent the one text she was dying to send?

_“I miss you.”_

Or the endless thoughts she wanted to type down. To beg for his forgiveness for her ploy, to prove she wasn’t lying and using him. 

In the end, every word left her with the burden of her actions. 

Did she deserve forgiveness? Would she forgive him if he was the one playing with her feelings? She forgave someone else for the same betrayal and she was now becoming her worst foil.

_Manipulating emotions for a greater purpose._

She was finally awake and ready to start a war but not brave enough to call him. 

And so on Liz claimed the end before the beginning.

_“Every time we say goodbye, I’m afraid we might actually mean it.”_

_“This time I gotta mean it.”_

Was she trying to convince him, giving him an ultimatum that they were finished before they started or she was convincing herself she was doing the right thing and everything is fair in love and war, even if it meant letting your feelings buried under the sand for a war to win? 

Was she sacrificing _them_ to a God she didn’t believe to get her payback from all the misfortunes that were placed on her from a God she did believe? 

If she would call him, would he pick up? Would he record every word? 

Did he miss her as much as she missed him? 

Was he angry enough to accuse her of the truth? Did he hate her enough to never answer? 

She could hear his voice, loud and clear in her head.

_“What is it this time Keen? What favor do you need this time? What lie you will tell me? Am I gonna be stupid enough to believe you? You know we are coming after you. I’m coming after you!”_

Would she manage to hear his cold voice, stripped from any emotional attachment, head on his noble crusade?

_“You made your bed, you gotta sleep on it"_ she reminded herself. 

And so on Liz would make her bed every night, sleeping on one side, to remind herself of the loss in her victory. She would dream of a life she would never have, the concord she could never claim amidst the chaos she belonged since her birth. Every time she would find defeat in her actions, she always finds a unicorn toy laying on the floor next to the one person who loved her unconditionally, who couldn’t hate her no matter what.

_Because love wins._

But would her love win at the end of the war? 

_Could she finally find her island and anchor herself for good?_


	2. Ressler : At gambling, the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you must play, decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time."
> 
> Maybe because Ressler is always less obvious than Darcy himself, imagine that! he might look passive on her actions but deep down he is probably confused, battling to see through her good intentions, confused about his own feelings, maybe more hurt than he would admit to himself. Can he finally stop waiting for the chips to be up to gamble without thinking about the risks?

  


  


He would agree he wasn’t paying attention to the “debate” between Aram and Park about the presents they brought him, clearly he was still holding a grudge that he was left out from the trip. 

  


  


His senses were elsewhere, his heart and mind couldn’t correspond with each other anymore.

  


Maybe Agent Park was right after all. Maybe _she could_ see clear Liz’s intentions when he and Aram couldn’t. Compromised from their own personal affiliations to her. 

  


“You should loosen up a bit Donald, have a drink or two?”

  


Ressler wasn’t sure when Red entered the room, was he fixated on him, or was it his idea? The man was starring at him while both Aram and Park had stopped their “friendly” argument about food, expecting his reaction. 

* * *

  


“Come on Liz, a drink or two?” Ressler almost begged. 

  


“ Ressler is right, it’s your birthday and we just sent a blacklister behind bars!” Aram pleading at Agent Keen with puppy eyes, next to him Agent Navabi smiling at her, silently agreeing. 

  


* * *

  


“Small victories Liz! We should take them when we can!” 

  


Without noticing Ressler placed his hand on her back, opening the door for her, practically guiding her inside Wing Yee. Aram and Samar were already seated waiting for them. He noticed from the moment she arrived in the Post Office this morning that her mood wasn’t as should be. He wouldn’t call her grumpy, not more than him on his bad days.

But she was darker, more hunted today. 

  


Isn’t what friends meant to do? Bring your spirits up when you feel down? 

  


A drink turned to three. And before the clock showed midnight, the group had finished more than they could handle. Ressler felt satisfied with himself, seeing Liz finally loosen up and ending up finally sort of “celebrating” her birthday with them felt a better victory than running after a criminal and arresting them on a fast track chase, jumping from roof to roof.

  


Their discussion was centered on the ridiculous names some of their criminals were adopting while on the run. Aram as always theorized about the reasoning behind it and before he could start a weird conspiracy theory about it, Samar realized she was the designated driver from the two and the report wouldn’t write itself in the morning.

  


As the agent pair said their goodbyes with Aram stumbling a bit to form a coherent sentence, Liz was more into deep thinking than Ressler expected her to be.

  


“What name you would’ve picked?” She asked him as he poured himself what seemed the last drink out of the bottle.

  


Upon checking on her, he realized she was more serious than before.

  


“ I don’t know. Never thought of it actually.” 

  


She was playing with her glass, unable to drink more from it. Maybe she was on her limit for the night Donald thought. 

  


He was sober enough, more than her at this point not to miss the importance of why she felt serious about the topic. She has been on the run before, so she should have an alias or Red gave her one already. 

  


Before he could pick a random name, to diffuse the atmosphere, before he could think of a corny joke to change the subject, her mouth opened.

  


_ “Allison”  _

  


* * *

  


“You know Dembe is trying to get me to cut off wine, but how can I be expected to do so when I’m surrounded with all this wine, superior in taste?” Reddington said as he poured himself a glass of red wine, sitting on his favorite chair. Ressler wasn’t sure if he was convinced on free will to follow him for a drink or two or Dembe’s look was intimating enough to do the job. 

  


The man wanted to talk to him. 

  


Alone, on his own terms. 

  


“Harold believes Elizabeth is far gone after today, what about you Donald? Do you believe your partner might be long gone as well?”

  


Ressler thought about it, every answer would carry weight. Was Reddington asking him sincerely unable to decide for himself or he already made his mind and he was testing him? 

  


“ What does it matter to you what I think ?”

  


Red laughed loudly at this statement almost mocking him. 

  


Reddington knew, for some reason he always seemed to know his feelings about Liz more than himself, which was the most infuriating part.

  


_“What you know about Elizabeth. What you feel for her…”_

  


Same old story, different acts, maybe different people. Different targets. 

  


“Donald please, pretending is not your strong suit much more lying. We both know you are more than a partner, _more than a friend._ I’m wondering why are you so passive so far at her acts?”

  


_More than a friend?_

  


“I’m not the one she wants to kill now am I ?” 

  


* * *

He insisted on driving her back home, he knew she probably missed her daughter and probably wanted to spend time with her on her birthday instead of chasing murderers but Agnes was far away and she was stuck chasing ghosts. 

  


“Thank you for tonight Ressler. It means a lot to me.” 

  


Maybe he had too much alcohol or too little, enough to stare at her more than he would allow himself on a normal day. She was holding his gaze more than he would appreciate it, more for his effort to be tormented later by his thoughts. Maybe he had left more alcohol back home to take the thoughts aside. 

  


Was her smile his reward for his efforts, maybe a reward alright? 

  


“ Anytime Keen. It’s what partners are for, save you on your miserable birthday night so you don’t end up alone,eating ice cream while watching a random rom-com.”

  


She rolled her eyes at him, laughing unaware he was deflecting. 

  


“I’ll let you know, Pride & Prejudice is not a random rom-com.”

  


“ I’m more of a Casablanca kind guy anyway!” 

  


Now her smile had faded with her eyebrow raised enough to make Ressler believe she was either shocked or confused with his choice of a romantic movie. 

  


* * *

  


“ You believe she has an excuse?? ”more demanding this time. 

  


Ressler didn’t know the answer to that. He was trying his best to see through her actions. But in every scenario, he couldn’t understand risking innocent lives. That was Reddington’s way of dealing with things. And he was infuriated that of all people he would be the one asking these questions. 

  


“She learned from the best didn’t she ?” Maybe Ressler was gambling tonight with Reddington. 

  


“Whatever I believe for Keen it doesn’t matter. She made these choices because of what you did. To her mother, her whole family, everyone she cared about! So if you struggle to decide if she is far gone and you need an excuse to justify fighting back maybe consider how your actions have pushed her to the edge! ”

  


He was angry now, enough to say what he thought back on clenching his jaw. He wouldn’t give to Reddington one more reason to justify his outcome, that Liz was truly gone. 

  


_“How is our girl?”_ Echoed to his mind, what it seemed millions of years ago. 

  


Maybe what Red wanted to ask him truly was “ _Is our girl still there? Can you bring her back?”_

  


  


But Raymond Reddington didn’t answer back to him, he only starred at him seemingly guilty and confused at the same time. 

  


“Raymond, you need to take this call!”

  


Dembe interrupted their starring contest, sensing the conversation was heating up enough for him to intervene. 

  


“I’ll see myself out, you don’t mind - if I get myself- one drink or two,” Ressler said picking up a bottle from his collection, leaving the two men alone. 

* * *

  


His torment of that night was what fed his deepest impulses. 

  


Either everyone was right about her motives and he was simply blind to see beyond his feelings for her. Feelings he buried deep down. For years. Feelings he never truly acknowledged, even now after crossing the line between friendship to “more” with her. 

  


What was it exactly that he expected truly? Her returning with reasonable explanations about her whereabouts, helping to release a criminal, abducting another, almost crushing two planes with innocent people as a diversion? 

  


Ending his anguish by proving she wasn’t the person they all believed her now to have become? 

  


The rum from Red’s collection sure seemed to take his mind off the edge, watching Casablanca. 

  


  


_Again._

  


  


_“You know how you sound…? Like a man who’s trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t believe in his heart.”_

  


  


Park’s complaints on the way to the airport unable to comprehend they didn’t manage to spent time off work while abroad. 

  


"What was the point of being in Paris after all!” she told him but he was already annoyed at her so smart connotations about Liz that he rather listen to music on the way back. Ignoring her. 

  


  


Was he turning into a love-sick fool who couldn’t see right from wrong? Unable to meet the expectations of his own rules? 

  


Expectations.

  


He had none for as long as he could remember. 

  


Rewards and expectations upon offering the minimal.

  


_Isn’t what friends are here for? What partners meant to do?_

  


  


Who truly crossed the line? Was it him or it was her? He couldn’t remember when the lines have been crossed between what they were, had and what they were nowadays. 

  


Harboring a fugitive, didn’t that count as crossing the line? They didn’t say almost a word to each other after he shut the door. Before his intentions to offer her a drink and her crossing the borders to his heart it was already too late for regrets. 

  


Calming down from the heat and the cold of the night surrounding him, the warmth of the body soundly asleep next to him, as much as his eyelids were a burden on their own, he couldn’t stop his brain arguing with his heart at this very moment.The inability of swimming in this bliss a torment on its own. More painful than the pain of his wounds, presenting the risks of this union. Maybe relief from this agony would be for her leaving in the middle of the night, much easier for his own feelings to be hurt so he can rebound to the reality. 

  


  


_“With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love”_

  


* * *

  


“Was it your apartment?”

  


Aram asked him, judging his choices and his moral code. 

  


Both ending up compromised and even slightly ashamed. 

  


Aram didn’t have to ask him far from what it was implied and he didn’t have to explain himself. Wasn’t Aram who comforted him after her fake death? Wasn’t Aram the one who would imply he should either get the dating app on his phone as well or build enough courage to do something about it? He had enough courage, enough courage to know where his place was. 

  


Close enough to hold her as she would fall when the chaos would push her to him. But not brave enough to keep her in his arms longer than her tears would dry up. 

  


Didn’t he had a chance to move on or he lied to himself? He wasn’t celibate. But each time something would happen and he would drop everything. Was it Agnes's first birthday back with Liz? Her ballet dance at school? 

  


_“ You’re someone I rely on for like everything!”_

_“We both know that’s not true.”  
_

And it wasn’t or so he told himself. 

* * *

  


“ Is she gonna be ok?”

  


“ Yeah, she just got a cold, once the fever will go down she will be running around ready to fight me again that it’s too early to sleep because she is too old now. I’ll try to get someone to look after her and I'll meet you at the scene.”

  


“ Nonsense, me and Aram can manage this one, Cooper will understand. Besides what you gonna profile? The guy sang his partner’s name, all we need is to stake out his safe house and get him. Aram lost the Pacman tournament again so he buys coffee. We will be fine!” 

  


He could hear her anguish for having to stay out as if she was unable to be an agent because she was a single mother. 

  


“Call me if you need anything Keen, I mean it! Aram and I will be there at no time!” 

  


So they were. 

  


  


“ What are you guys doing here?”

“ Bad time?” He was asking out of courtesy to cover his worry so early in the morning. 

  


“ We got you donuts!” Aram excited and yet looking as if he could use some hours extra of sleep. Ressler’s tie messed up, along with his hair. 

  


“No, Agnes is asleep, fever is down and frozen managed to get her to sleep before I could fall asleep instead! You guys look messy !” 

  


Both still standing near the door frame than the living room. 

  


Before Aram could lay the donuts and coffee laid out on the table he spoke. 

  


“ We managed to get the money launder mogul dressed as priest arrested, we struggled a bit….”

  


Liz noticed a leaf on his shirt, she removed it first forming a smile, she was mocking him or feeling bad they had to run after in the middle of the night after a criminal through trees and bushes. 

  


Her eyes betrayed her that she felt bad for him looking a mess, he had looked better in the mornings. Definitely less sleepy.

  


“Ressler here needed to make sure you ladies were ok before we headed back to the office!” 

  


Aram betrayed his intentions, maybe he needed to speak less when working with him especially on a night shift. 

  


Was he frozen or he was sleepy enough not to want to move? But again Liz was standing still right in front of him, almost smiling, always almost too close to him. He needed a shower and sleep. Maybe a dream or two wouldn’t be a bad idea. But preferably without her in them for his sake of mind.

  


“I mean, someone gotta help me to report this case back to Cooper without making it look as if we were two crazy FBI agents running after a priest in the middle of a park at three in the morning!”

  


He was convincing. Convincing enough for Liz to innocently fix his tie, always smiling, with their eyes locked, before he could dive and start swimming on the blue of them, his attention was broken in an instant. 

  


“ What’s yours? I got the skim latte!” 

  


Aram reminded him that they weren’t alone, and even if they were, his chances weren’t up for gambling. 

  


* * *

  


He never turned his eyes to her while she slept peacefully maybe for the first time in years next to him. Unable to make this moment more than it was, void from promises, filled with regrets only. If his eyes never saw her figure, maybe he could forbid himself from what could seal his expectations to a future they couldn’t have. 

  


Despite his greatest efforts, this was a losing game from the start. Maybe Reddington was right, he lucked conviction or a greater motive. Always starring at the pretty loner, waiting for his chance unable to gamble. 

  


So unaware of the storm that would follow soon, Ressler fell asleep on the same side since, oblivious to the fact that without wanting he had already gambled with his own desires and predictions for a future he would unwillingly fight for. 

  


it wasn’t his soul he would fight for, _it would be hers._

  


  


  



	3. Elizabeth/ Ressler : the very souls that look alike, look alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make sense of 8.09, the conversation between the Cyranoid and Ressler troubled me until I realized it was written from Liz's POV but since no Megan, no Liz the conversation felt out of order. I don't know where the story is going, in the paper is compelling, on-screen without the person portraying the main character there is rather disappointing.

Behind the screen, a woman full of regrets and pain was pulling the strings. But most importantly a woman full of anger and loss of everyone she cared about. 

_Tom? Dead_

_Sam? Dead_

_Her real father? Dead_

_Her mother? Dead_

How many more she would have to lose? She was running out of options for Reddington to steal from her. _Her daughter? Ressler? Aram? Cooper?_

So she did the one thing she would regret the most, she sacrificed herself to keep them safe. Was she so far on the deep end that she couldn’t see right from wrong? 

Townsend was the last way for her to get rid of her controller. This way she could be free for good, even if it meant losing everyone.

* * *

He was casually speaking to someone he never met before. Someone who looked at him with warmth and longing with a smirk. 

“You are obviously working with her, some kind of a surrogate. So tell me how can I help.” 

“Ressler, I told you what I need!”

“It’s _agent_ Ressler!” 

She was simply starring at him through the screen and yet felt like she was there with him, breathing the same air. Yet again she could see he was unable to see through her doppelgänger. 

He was talking to _her_ and yet she felt he was emotionally miles away from her. 

“Donald! Come on!” 

She wasn’t sure if she was angry at him for putting so much space between them. He wasn’t Agent Ressler to her. Never that. 

“I care about you!” It wasn’t a statement, a reminder more or less. Was she telling him what she felt for him was the most sincere feeling she had lately or she was reminding herself that she could love and hate at the same time? 

Still nothing. 

Was he going crazy? He never met this woman before today and yet she kept looking at him as if she knew his deepest secrets, things he would never tell a soul. But he did tell a soul. Not long ago. He purred his soul to her, between the rights and wrongs, freeing him from his own sins. 

Why this woman dressed like his partner, sitting in front of him behaved like they knew each other? 

Was his confusion in favor of her amusement in the end? 

Was she talking to Liz? Training her, making her a copy to convince everyone who she was? 

_Did she know about them?_

“I wanna end this as much as you do. But I need your help!”

Didn’t Liz consider all the options? Buying time for the inevitable? Was she giving him the truth? Because her mind was made before she surrendered. 

“We are not giving you immunity!” 

“I can’t tell you what’s happening until you do. Please!” 

“Talk to me about Keen.”

“I told you it’s me!” 

“No .”

He was firm on his belief, not confused about the reality. She might have been looking like a replica, with a different voice and face, seemingly talking to him as if she knew him, telling him to look beyond the appearances. 

“ You want proof?”

His inability of seeing _her,_ beyond the eyes of the woman she was so conveniently using to be her eyes and voice was so infuriating to her, she would go as low as possible to prove her point to him and solely regret it an instant after. 

She never asked for Collins to lean towards him. Maybe their brains were connected in a way that she knew her more than she knew herself. 

If she wasn’t so accustomed to making her point she would have felt sick to the reality of what they have become. 

“Why we don’t start from what happened between you and me the night before I went on the run?”

Was her voice lower than expected, did she subconsciously demanded from her second self to be almost seductive when saying these words to him? As if she couldn’t acknowledge that beyond the glass, their boss or even their coworkers were standing having this conversation unfolding before their eyes, _exposing them_? 

In another life where Reddington was defeated before all that, they would hide the truth and keep this secret for themselves. Until Aram would notice the glances and smiles, enough to confront them annoyed they left him out of the secret. Bold enough to talk to her about how she would navigate this newfound relationship.

All that could happen in another life, this one was wasted away because they were living the moment on borrowed time.

He was meant to be interrogating _her_ and yet he felt naked in front of a stranger who seemed to hold all his secrets. 

Revealing their most intimate moment as if it was not more or less a night of comfort to use it against him? 

It felt like he was slapped in the face and he would rather vanish from the face of the earth. 

_What going on between us should stay between us._

Now for a fact or two, Donald Ressler was confused, a copy? 

A trained person to copy and imitate her behavior and movements was one thing. But having her memories? Did she confide to this woman, giving everything necessary to work on them?

_“Oh boy, she played you!”_

Reddington’s mocking came to bite him right back. He was been played once more. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

She couldn’t rely on him recognizing her anymore. Did she tried and push his buttons more than she should? Was she naive to believe all she had to do was to tell him about what she missed? What she cherished and had no regrets? 

And then she realized it. 

She, _Elizabeth Keen_ wasn’t in the room. Ressler was starring at a stranger who was claiming to know things beyond her jurisdiction. For all he knew the woman in front of him was a hired gun to look like her, her feelings or her trust didn’t matter to him. 

_He couldn’t recognize her anymore._

“Harold, please! I need your help. Reach out to Panabaker. See if she will consider a deal.” 

The conversation was over between them. 

* * *

Between the arrest warrant was issued and the second bottle of scotch was emptied Ressler and Aram agreed that love was void and they were both better without it. Of course the voice of reason these days was Aram’s persistence upon condemningLiz’s actions and Park’s admonitions of what was right and whatnot. 

Since when he had lost the sense of that, he couldn’t remember. 

Was it when he lied for her for the first time or when he couldn’t find faults in her allowing a serial killer to kill himself? 

In his head all he could see was _her eyes_ , Liz’s eyes, her face and lips telling him she missed him. 

The words he maybe longed for so long were voiced through someone else.

Maybe he was naive to believe she missed him as much as he missed her, maybe she was using that against him as well. 

To allow himself to be “weak” once more for her. Letting his defenses down, letting her in. Giving her the gun to point against his heart each time. 

The feeling of the gun held on his head didn’t burn him enough, not more than his heart was burning from the pain that she was so far gone, so far away he couldn’t reach out to her. 

“I couldn’t see her Aram.” 

“Of course you couldn’t! It wasn’t her!”

“But it was, she was in the post office today along with her doppelgänger, knowing our weakness - taking advantage of them and playing us all. ” 

“ I shot at her” Aram replied almost silent with guilt with Ressler putting his glass down starring at him concerned.

“ For one moment there, I felt I wasn’t shooting at her double. But I was shooting at her and the anger was overwhelming Ressler. ”

“Well don’t beat yourself up, she killed Bremmer and she would have us both killed to get out of there. ”

Now It was Aram’s turn to stop drinking and stare at his friend worried that his heart was more hurt than he feared. 

Was there a blurred line between Liz's actions and her doppelgängers or they both blurred them enough to fool themselves?

* * *

Before Reddington arrived at her safe house, she made sure to leave traces of her next step. Townsend was already on her side, waiting for commendations in a plan to bring Red down. She was done talking to _him_ , she was more than happy allowing them both to talk to each other. 

Because she asked the old man to help her bring Red down it didn’t mean she was okay with herself. The man she so much begged to help her today, was the reason her mother was chased and died or she thought.

If she was honest with herself she wouldn’t mind both men killing each other. 

_The enemy of my enemy is my friend._

Did she blur the lines enough of her retribution to befriend killers, have innocent lives as pawns in a game of death chess? Manipulate and harm those close to her? Play a hide and seek game with the man who murdered her mother right in front of her eyes like she meant nothing? 

She allowed herself to believe she knew Reddington more than he believed. Enough to know he was bluffing and he wouldn’t kill her double. If anything she was the link between them. Maybe the only mistake she did was to allow herself and show weakness in the eyes of her old partner. 

“I’ve missed you”

Did she mean to sound that playful in the ears of her double to have them bounce back to her, the same way? Did she miss his stubbornness or the fact he could call her out so easily? 

“ You ordered your puppet to kill Bremmer and now you helping her escape”

She could swear her double was having a field day but she didn’t seem to protest. 

He was now convinced of who she was and finally talking to _her._

Liz missed _them_ more than she could allow herself to admit. 

Missed going to work and waiting for him to arrive sometimes empty-handed, sometimes with coffee at hand for both. 

_“Traffic is the worst, one of these days I'm gonna get a bike like Aram!”_ Ressler would tell her looking sweaty in the hot weather with his tie one step from choking him. 

She never managed to pinpoint the moment she laid her eyes on him, wishing she could untie that tie and kiss him on the spot. It happened before she could realize it, she would linger her look one moment more enough. 

Enough for her face to start to burn so she could turn away, enough for her to want more.

She missed _that._

Missed doing the right thing because he was so adamant about doing it. Having a moral compass for her actions. 

_“Am I doing the right thing?”_ she meant to ask him.

Hidden away in a motel almost midnight the news of her arrest warrant would reach her while checking federal channels, she wasn’t only a fugitive on the task force, she wasn’t only a blacklister. 

She was the most wanted now. 

_Deja vu_

Any ties she had with them now they were all severed. 

She could never go back.

This feeling reminded her of another life when she was running again, framed and the only people she could rely on are now the man she is so determined to eliminate and the man who would she return to so many times because it was the safest option she had, because he could identify with her torment of being damaged, the man who would die for her truth. 

_Now she was all alone._

She was far from being framed. It was her choices and actions that brought her on this torment. 

Reddington turned her into a weapon and now It was lingering on the trigger to kill him. 

It’s weird how Ressler had been there, protecting her in his own way. On her side to prove she wasn’t a murderer, now it was the man who once more wouldn’t allow her to go. 

“You should let me go.”

“Those days are over.”

“Why? Nothing is changed.”

_“I can’t let her go.”_

But everything had changed since. Then she was able to see even in a twisted way the right from wrong, filled with anguish and guilt of what she had become. Now she was comfortable on her own skin, adapted to the new reality like a chameleon, ready to do whatever it took. 

_Because the benefit outweighs the cost._


End file.
